


What Will The Neighbors Think?

by meanoldauthor



Category: Fallout (Video Games)
Genre: Arachnophobia, Halloween, Humor, Mystery, Small Towns, wasteland halloween
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2019-01-27 19:16:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12588764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meanoldauthor/pseuds/meanoldauthor
Summary: It's so hard to find an honest job these days.Bunny and Thea are just here to sink a well, take their payment, and leave.  But the odd little town they've been directed to is just a little too quiet...and just a little too strange for their liking.





	1. Chapter 1

“She’s getting fat.”

“Why would it be getting fat?”

“Because you keep slipping _her_ ,” Bunny let the word hang, “bits of snack cake.”

Thea waved a hand. “Psh, it won’t hurt anything. Mole rats are a dime a dozen, we can get another if this one gets too fat to walk.”

“Peach isn’t…” Bunny sighed through her nose.

“I’m just teasing.”

“I know.”

Thea shifted on her shoulder, leaning down to place a kiss on top of her head. Her lips felt leathery. “If you rather I walked her, you’ll have to get her out of the cart. She’s burrowed under the tarps again.”

Bunny looked back, over her unoccupied shoulder. The wagon was big enough for even her to lay in, and a tail with a few scraggly hairs was sticking out under the layers of canvas. “So long as she doesn’t open up the mortar.”

“You got it, Bun.”

She adjusted her grip on the cart shafts and kept walking. The sun didn’t bother Bunny much, but she heard Thea mutter and swear as it headed towards noon, growing hotter and brighter. The dust around them swirled in the breeze, and she retreated under the tarps with Peach when the wind picked up. Bunny kept walking, towing the cart behind. It stung, apparently. She could feel it bouncing off her skin, just a faint patter. Maybe ghouls were just more sensitive, the sand striking bare muscle. It certainly sounded uncomfortable.

In the softer light, late afternoon, Bunny called back, “Hey.”

Rustle. “What?”

“Look at that sign.”

A louder rustle, a snuffle as Peach protested. “Ha!”

Someone had scratched the ‘e’ off of the road sign to Butte Falls. “They said the town was just further up the road, yes?” Bunny said, twisting to look back. Thea had the tarps draped over her like a cloak, Peach across her lap. “Did you, uh. Did you want to come out and do the talking?”

“C’mon, Bunny, you can do it.” Peach grunted as she sat up, reaching up to pat her back. “They’re more scared of you than you are of them.”

“That’s what worries me.”

“You’re more scared of them than they are?”

“Thea.”

“Fine, fine.” She hopped out, adjusting her hat. The little extra height it gave put her level with Bunny’s waist. “You gotta be more confident, Bun.”

“I know.”

“People will walk all over you.”

“That’d be a thing to see, dear.”

The town came into view, a little huddle of pre-war buildings along a dirt road. A brahmin lowed at them, the woman unharnessing it doing a double-take. 

“Howdy!” Thea called. “Heard you people were having well trouble.”

“I—We, uh…” She threw an armful of straps over her shoulder, shading her eyes to look up at Bunny. “Well went to a trickle almost a month ago.”

“Anybody been down to clean it?”

“Um. Couple of the boys, but it’s just…dry.”

“Right!” Thea clapped her hands, rubbed them together. “Who can we talk to about digging you a new one?”

“The mayor, I suppose.”

“Okay.” The woman clenched her hands on a strap, and the brahmin wandered off. Bunny shifted her weight. Thea nodded a little, spread her hands wide. “And the mayor is…”

“Me, today.”

“Fantastic!” Thea said, punching the word out. “Our fee is room and board for a week, and as many supplies as we can carry.”

“Thea.”

“As many supplies as she can carry.”

“ _Thea_.”

“A negotiable amount of provisions, and-or their equivalent in caps. How’s that sound, Mayor…?”

She furrowed her brow. “Mayor of Butte Falls.”

“Well. Then do we have a deal, Mayor Butte,” Thea said, grabbing the brim of her hat to adjust it, the edges out past her shoulders, “Falls?”

The woman—the mayor—looked from Bunny, dying a slow death by embarrassment, to Thea, holding out a stringy hand. “Oh, that’s…That’s not necessary.”

Thea’s smile froze. “You what?”

“We’ve got the creek.”

Thea and Bunny shared a look. “I don’t want to be critical, ma’am,” Bunny said, in her gentlest voice. “But we walked up along it a while. It’s almost completely dried up.”

“It’ll do until we can get everyone moved to Klamath,” the mayor said. “You know how it goes.”

Bunny looked out at the town. A few people had wandered onto the main road to watch them, and there looked to be enough buildings to house many more. “That’s quite a few people, to move that far.”

The mayor smiled. It didn’t reach her eyes. “You know how it goes.”

Thea looked back up at Bunny, manic grimace hidden by the brim of her hat. “Well, then why did we—”

“We’re sorry to bother you, then,” Bunny sad, picking up the shafts of the cart. “We’ll be on our way.”

“Oh. Uh,” The mayor wavered, buckles on the harness clinking. “I mean, uh. Are you with the Republic?”

“Citizens,” Bunny said, furrowing her brow, “but not in any official…”

“Oh.” The mayor rubbed her hands together. “I guess if you came real far, you could at least…”

“At least…?” Thea made a tumbling gesture.

“At least, you know…see if there’s a spot, and…”

“And you’ll pay us.”

“Oh, yes! Yes.” She clasped her hands. “Yes, of course. We’d love to. How…fast, do you dig?”

“Bunny here can make ten feet a day, easy.”

“Ten. Okay. Ten a day.” The mayor wandered up the street, a buckle dragging behind. The two of them shrugged at each other and followed. “Our old well is down here. I don’t know if that helps you…”

“It surely does, ma’am,” Thea said, jerking a thumb after her and making a face. “How do you deal with your waste?”

“Oh, we got a settling tank or two on the south side of town…”

Bunny frowned at Thea, and she rolled her eyes, catching up to her. “Great, great…” She barely came up to the woman’s shoulder. “And those are workin? We do tanks, too…”

“Are you a mootint?”

Bunny stopped short, the weight of the cart making her scuff her feet an extra step. A child stood before her. “Ah…yes.” She glanced up at the mayor and Thea, getting ahead. “I…I am a mutant.”

The child squinted up at her, wearing a shirt and hat too big for him. “My daddy says he killed mootints, when he was inna ‘narmy.”

“Oh.”

“You ever killed anyone?”

“I, uh.” The other two were pointing around the town, deep in conversation. “Well, I …I did. I was in an army too.”

He tilted his head to squint with the other eye. “Not my daddy’s ‘narmy. They were mutie-killers.”

“That’s nice.” She made a feeble shooing motion. “Now, uh, run along…”

“He kept the finger-bones off one’f ‘em.”

“Thea?”

“How big’re _your_ finger-bones?”

“ _Thea?_ ”

“That ranger-man was a monster-killer, too. Don’t do things like him though. Better not rile up the neighbors.”

“Hoy, you kid!” Thea stomped over, waving her hat. “Get outta here or we’ll eat you!”

“No way! You don’t really eat people!” The child backed away, looking far too pleased.

“You bet we do, you’d be two bites to her!”

“ _Thea!_ ”

“Wow! I’m gonna go tell my mama!” He ran off, turning back to yell, “You ain’t hiding in the woods at night no more!”

“What?”

“You know how it goes,” the mayor said, wringing her hands gently. “’There’s a monster in the woods, so don’t stay out late,’ and…”

There was a glassy edge to her smile. Bunny stared down at the dirt.

“Well that’s rude,” Thea said, jamming her hat back on. “There’s places with _laws_ against that kind of talk.”

“Oh, I don’t—I mean—”

“Grab Peach. I think we might have luck downhill of the old well.”

Some of the townsfolk wandered off, but a few followed as she hauled the wagon to a field. The mayor stumbled on the harness twice before someone took it from her, watching them as she wrung her hands. “Oh. You have a…”

Peach grumbled as Bunny scooped her up, blinking at the light. She wriggled, getting comfortable in the crook of her arm as Bunny tied a string to the mismatched dog collars buckled together around her thick neck.

“We do have _a_ ,” Thea said, taking the end of the string. Bunny gave the mole rat a kiss on the head before setting her down. “Now. Down this way, I think…”

“Actually, if, uh, if you’re going to dig, over here might…”

Thea gave the mayor a withering look. “Lady, I’ve forgotten more about hydrogeology than you could ever know.”

“She means—” Bunny said, stepping between them.

“No, I. Um. I mean, I…”

“If you folks want me to site a well, let me site a well.”

The mayor trailed off into a mumble. Thea shook the string, and Peach sat up on her haunches, rubbing her paws on her face. They waited, and, face properly cleaned, Peach dropped to all fours and started snuffling along. Thea used the lead to keep her going in a straight line, then taking a long step at the edge of the field, walking her back in a grid.

The sky was gold, the afternoon gone to evening. The mayor sidled up to Bunny, not looking at her. “How long does this usually…?”

“Oh, half an hour?” Bunny said. “Thea knows what she’s doing, and Peach hasn’t let us down yet.”

“Peach.”

Bunny couldn’t really blush anymore, but tried anyway. “I thought it…”

“No, it’s…cute.” She was still looking away, and Bunny followed her gaze, to the scraggly woods at the edge of town. “I just can’t imagine you’d want to work so late. At night.”

“We don’t. We’ll find a site, earn a bunk, and start tomorrow,” Bunny said. “I mean, if you want us to. You only asked for a siting…”

“Oh no no, That was…A misunderstanding,” the mayor said, that worrisome smile back on her face. “Please. We’d be happy to host you while you work.”

Bunny nodded, taking half a step away. In the field, Peach strained to her right as Thea walked a row, then to her left on the return trip. Thea dropped the string, and the mole rat sniffed hard at the dirt, scooping piles of it away with her claws.

“Here we are!” Thea said, leaving her to dig. She held out a hand, and Bunny tossed her a stick with a blue rag tied at the top. Nudging Peach away, already shoulder-deep, she stuck it into the ground. “That’s us started, Ms. Mayor. Now, where we sleeping?”

“Oh, great. Really good,” the mayor said, scuttling back towards the main road. “We have a house that’s empty, if you can…”

She led them down the main road, near the edge of town. The homes were run-down and starting to list with age, a few shored up with planks. “This one will be yours, I’m sorry about the ceiling…” the mayor said, stepping up onto a porch.

Thea eyed the state of it, missing glass in the windows, a tarp fluttering over a hole in the roof. Bunny cleared her throat before she could start. “I beg your pardon, ma’am, but the next one down is in better shape.”

The mayor froze, her hand on the doorknob.

“If it’s unoccupied, could we…?”

“No.”

“No?” Thea said, folding her arms. “Look, I know you must not get much rain here, but—”

“It’s haunted.” The mayor looked back at them, her mouth struggling to look grim and friendly all at once. “You might, might not be superstitious, but…” She laughed, a sort of hiccuping noise. “But we are!”

Bunny put a hand on Thea’s shoulder. “Right. I’m sorry to intrude.”

She could hear the mayor rush off the porch as soon as the door shut behind them, footsteps hurrying back into town. Thea threw herself backwards onto the couch, groaning. “Why are all the small towns so _weird_.”

“That’s not nice.”

“Tell me that lady had all her geckos in a row.”

Bunny pursed her lips. Thea made a little _so there_ gesture. Bunny shrugged and ducked into the bedroom, standing sideways to get through the door. “Hand me my bedroll, would you dear? It’s a single.”

“Bah. We should have dickered more, see if someone had a king somewhere,” Thea said, lobbing it to her.

“My feet would still hang off. My _knees_ do,” she muttered, undoing the ties.

“C’mon, it’s not that bad when you’re big spoon.” Thea watched her lay out the bedroll, picking up the nightstand one-handed to make space. There was a click of nails, Peach snuffling her way into the kitchen. “I’ll get dinner started, huh?”

“That’d be lovely.”

It was a quiet, domestic sort of night, a hot dinner at an actual table and mostly solid roof overhead. Bunny found herself relaxing, the weird little town of Butte Falls fading away as she laughed at Thea, telling a story about the town she’d grown up in.

She woke partway through the night, Thea curled up against her side. At her feet, Peach lifted her head, grinding her teeth a little, a threat.

Bunny closed her eyes, listening. There was a scratching noise outside, followed by the sound of many small feet running away.

Heart pounding, she lay awake, waiting for it to return. Beside her, Thea turned over, hugging her arm, mumbling to herself. Peach put her head back down, and, unwillingly, Bunny let herself drift back to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Bunny hit a steady rhythm around noon, waist-deep in the earth. “Are they still watching us?”

Thea paced around her, setting bricks in a ring around the hole. “I think there’s more now.” She squinted at the kids, sitting on and under the fence on the edge of the field. “Not tellin’ ‘em to leave a third time though. I got better things to do.”

“Like what?” Bunny asked, still tossing dirt out of the hole

Thea wiggled her eyebrows—or rather, where her eyebrows had been—and hopped up into the cart.

“Don’t tell me you pulled it out of the trash,” Bunny said. “It’s falling apart!”

“It just needs more tape!” Thea yelled. There was a rattling under the canvas.

“It’s _mostly_ tape,” Bunny muttered, levering a rock out of the ground.

“Aaahhh.” Thea held a lawn chair over her head, trying to sound like a choir of angels, but with her ghoul’s rasp, just gargled. The webbing was faded to a sickly yellow, where it hadn’t been replaced with strips of duct tape. The frame was bent and rusted, but an old broken-ribbed umbrella had been taped to the back, still an unfortunate mix of green and purple stripes.

Bunny groaned. “It’s hideous.”

“It knows the shape of my ass,” Thea said, snapping it open. She had to try twice to get the back to stay up.

She rolled her eyes and kept digging, as Thea calculated the angle of the sun and maximum shade. When she finally sat down, Peach grumbled her way out from under the cart, digging a hollow in the shadow she cast.

“You’ve been outvoted,” Thea said, a canteen in one hand. She waited for Peach to stop throwing dirt over her back, and rested her feet on top of the mole rat.

“You have no taste,” Bunny said.

“You’re just jealous.”

Her rest wasn’t long. After adjusting her angle twice, Thea sighed. Bunny was up to her shoulders in the ground, with nowhere to throw the excavated dirt. Thea grabbed a smaller shovel out of the cart, clearing the way.

Thea muttered to herself as she unfolded a tripod, checking the winch and pulleys over before propping it over the hole. Bunny kept digging, started throwing dirt into the bucket Thea dropped down for her. They worked in a steady rhythm, winching dirt up and the empty bucket down as the edge of the hole approached eye level.

“Dear?”

“What?” Thea grunted, leaning on the winch.

“Use the motor, dear.”

“Too shallow, I have some pride,” she said, throwing her weight into another revolution.

Bunny leaned on the shovel, let her get it to the edge of the hole. “Did…you hear anything unusual last night?”

“You didn’t snore, if that’s what you mean,” Thea said, tossing the bucket empty.

“Nothing outside?”

“Maybe a dog barking when I got up to pee,” she said, looking down at her. “Why?”

“Must have woken up from a bad dream,” Bunny said, shuffling the pail aside when it landed with a _clunk_. “Thought I heard something at the window.”

“Huh. Well, you weren’t restless.” Thea leaned on the tripod, squinting at the fence. “Might have been those kids, I swear there’s more of them than adults here.”

“They certainly are curious,” Bunny muttered.

“They can keep to their damn selves,” Thea said. “ _We_ are making this weird-ass town livable again, we ought to have a hero’s reception.”

The soft earth of the field made for easy work the rest of the day, the layer of clay beneath proving more of a struggle. “I think we can call us done for now, Thea.”

“Oh, if you say so,” she said, sending the bucket down one last time. Bunny got a boot atop it, and the motor strained to haul her up. “Oh, no…”

“What’s wrong?” Bunny looked over her shoulder as she stepped onto the ground. “Oh.”

The mayor was on the dirt path that cut through the field. She fussed with the front of her shirt, distracted enough to stumble on a rock and nearly land on her face.

“God,” Thea muttered, folding her chair back up. “She’s got a—”

“Good evening!” The sun was behind her, and Bunny tensed as she came level, spotting the revolver on her hip, a badge on her chest. The path put her far enough away that she put her hands around her mouth, “How’s it going?”

“Fine, fine, mayor…” Thea said, hiding behind her hat to give Bunny a look.

“Oh, I’m the Sheriff today,” she said, still yelling

“Could you maybe come over here, so we don’t have to…?” Thea said.

She looked down at her feet, at the narrow packed-dirt path. “I like standing here! But thank you!”

Thea rubbed her head. “We under arrest?”

“Oh, no, no. Just wanted to tell you I dropped off some things at your house,” she said, with that glassy smile. “Food and sundries. Like we agreed.”

Bunny nodded. “Thank you, Sheriff…?”

“Of Butte Falls.”

Thea made a strangled sound.

“It’s time to go inside, though,” the sheriff, or possibly also the mayor, said. “It’s sunset. We have a curfew.”

“Since when?” Thea said.

“Oh, always,” she said. “But I wasn’t the sheriff yesterday.”

Thea took a breath, but seemed to lock up at actually producing words. The sheriff looked at neither of them, still a little vague.

Bunny cleared her throat. “Ma’am, are there any other jobs you do around…?”

She blinked, seemed to brighten up. “Oh, I was the postmaster last week, but we don’t get mail anymore.”

“Oh.”

“I like being postmaster. It’s quiet.”

“I’m sure,” Bunny said, in her most soothing voice.

“But you need to go home now. Curfew!” she said brightly, like it was some kind of holiday.

“Of course, ma’am, we’ll move right along.” Bunny patted Thea on the back, shaking slightly, the brim of her hat hiding her face. “Grab Peach, dear, and we’ll head back.”

The mayor-sheriff-postmaster waved as they walked away. Thea pulled her hat off, putting the crown over her face as Bunny steered her back towards town. “What the hell is…?”

“Don’t be rude,” Bunny murmured. A few children were still sitting by the fence.

“This place is _fuc_ —”

“I thought you guys were monsters!”

Bunny froze. Thea took a couple more steps, Peach following on her lead, then replaced her hat to watch her footing. She put her hands on her hips at the sight of the boy.

He scowled at him, under his too-big cowboy hat. “You said you were monsters, who ate up kids, but you still goes inside at night.”

“Sorry, kid, it’s curfew, gotta go,” Thea said, reaching for Bunny’s hand.

“Mama says you’re gonna distrub the neighbors! You shouldn’t distrub ‘em!” he yelled as they walked off. “The ranger-man dint—”

“Keep bugging us kid, I’ll show you what a dist-rubbing I can—”

“Thea!”

She nearly picked her up by the back of her shirt, hurrying her along. Thea tried to twist away. “Let me at ‘em, I’ll teach him some manners!”

“You’re picking a fight with a _child_.”

“Yeah, but he’s my own size, so—”

“Stop.”

Thea settled, walking meekly as they entered the house loaned to them. She shuffled sideways through the door, and Thea shut it behind them. “You realize it was probably him you heard last night,” she said.

Bunny folded herself nearly in half to sit on the couch. “He’s a child and doesn’t know better,” she said. Thea didn’t look at her, with the implication behind it. “I know this is a strange job, but it’s a job. We just need to do our work and leave.”

“Hnrrggg…” Thea dragged her hands down her face, groaning, and finally flopped sideways on the couch. “Fine. Fine, fine, fine. But I want pay in _caps_ off this one.”

“I’m sure we can negotiate for it, dear,” Bunny said, pulling her closer.

Thea continued to grumble as she buried her face in her side.

—

Bunny sat up with a book as Thea snored, Peach snuffling up under her arm. Now and then she pushed the blinds up, peeking outside at the empty road. Each time she did, she sighed through her nose, until she finally gave up and lay down on the bedroll.

Drifting off, she was sure she imagined the sound, but as she came awake, the panicked low of a brahmin sounded again. Thea muttered as she rolled up to her knees, parting the blinds with a finger. The animal’s pen was out of sight, even as she pressed her face to the window to look down the road.

“Wh’s happening?” Thea said, standing to peer out the gap.

“I heard something,” Bunny said, looking the other way.

Thea rubbed at the sleep in her eyes. “That kid?”

“Brahmin. Shh.”

The silence stretched. “Must’ve been a dream, dear,” Thea patted her on the shoulder and lay back down.

Bunny stayed where she was. A breeze rustled the scraggly weeds along the buildings, but the town might have been empty. The motion almost hid a shape retreating behind a shed. She froze as it did, too distant to make out, but bulky and dark. Her heart almost stopped as it turned, a pair of shining eyes staring back at her.

It backed away, out of sight behind the shed. Bunny let the blinds close, laying back down slowly. She reached for Thea’s sawed-off shotgun, checked that it was loaded before setting it in easy reach under the bed. Already asleep, Thea didn’t move as she curled up around her, protective, heart still pounding.


	3. Chapter 3

Thea passed her down sets of curved planks and metal hoops as she dug, shoring up the dirt as she descended. After the third set, Thea called down, “You feeling alright, Bunny?”

“Mm?” Bunny shook her head, clamping a hoop in place. “Didn’t sleep well.”

Her hat shaded the opening of the shaft, and Bunny saw it tilt as she gave her a Look. “Don’t tell me you stayed up all night.”

Bunny shrugged, stomped on her shovel to break through the clay. After a few scoops, “Have you seen their brahmin around? I think they only had the one.”

“I…” Thea looked around as she ran the motor on the winch. The full bucket ascended, the empty one on the other end of the rope clunking against it on the way down. “You know, I haven’t.”

“Hmm.” Bunny adjusted her hard hat, the light from the fission lantern on top barely illuminating the end of the shovel. “What about the mayor?”

“You mean the sheriff?” Thea said dryly.

“But have you seen her?”

The whir of the motor, the clunk of the buckets. “I don’t…”

She made another few feet of progress before she spoke again. “I saw something last night.”

“Oh? What’s that?” Thea said, subdued.

“I’m not sure,” Bunny said. “Maybe an animal.”

“Huh.” A long silence, punctuated by the shovel and the motor and the buckets. “Bunny, I think the town’s empty.”

“What?” She stopped, looking up. Thea was gazing out over the field, a hand fidgeting with the brim of her hat. “Dear, say something.”

“Those kids aren’t there. Nothing’s moving on the street.” The empty bucket swung past her. “Come up. Something’s wrong.”

Bunny got her foot on it before it hit the dirt, and the motor strained to bring her back up. Thea took her hand as she stepped off, her shotgun in the other. The town was still, silent; even its tiny population had made some noise the day before.

“I told you something was wrong,” Thea said, checking the safety on her gun.

“Dear, please save the ‘I told you so’ until we actually know what’s wrong,” Bunny said, the handle of the shovel creaking in her hands. “Come on. We should go…knock on doors, or something.”

Peach followed them, tangling in Thea’s ankles until she ran ahead, jumping onto the packed earth of the path and grinding her teeth at the dirt of the field. The pair of them picked up speed without a word, and Thea leveled her shotgun at the ground as soon as she reached the path.

The dirt stayed unchanged, just dirt.

They traded a look, and Bunny saw Thea swallow hard. “Town hall. Someone has to be there.”

The road was empty. Neither of them called out, staying close to one another, Peach trailing behind. Bunny pushed to door to the town hall open slowly, Thea peeking around the far side. “Hello?” she rasped, voice drier than usual. She cleared her throat, and louder: “Anybody in there?”

The sound didn’t echo, but the silence was still ringing. Neither of them made a move to go inside.

Bunny forced her voice above a whisper. “What about that house next to us?”

“The one with the actual roof?” Thea said, backing away.

“Yeah.”

“The _haunted_ one?”

“Thea, don’t tell me you believe in ghosts.”

“Bun, right now, I’ll go with _any_ explanation on this.”

The door was locked. Bunny got a grip on the edges, pulling it out of the frame as carefully as she could. Thea kept her shotgun leveled as she set it aside, and they both peered into the dark. “Well, we…”

“I’ll go first,” Bunny said.

“I’m the one with a gun,” Thea said, but didn’t move.

“A gun won’t hurt a ghost.” Bunny ducked under the door.

“You don’t honestly think…”

“ _You_ were willing to believe it.”

Hunching to avoid the ceiling fan, Bunny looked around the living room. It looked like any other pre-war building still in use, the couch leaking stuffing, a pile of broken furniture in one corner, and a fine layer of dust over it all. Someone had dragged a desk against the far wall, and it looked marginally cleaner than the rest of the room.

Bunny heard Thea tiptoe into the kitchen, and she went to the desk, picking up a pile of papers. The top page was a list with tallies on ammunition, food, lodging expenses. The one under it was some sort of map, hand-drawn squiggly lines laid over a grid labeled BUTTE FALLS.

The rest of the stack was blank, or as blank as old, reused pre-war sheets could be. Another had been crumpled up and shoved towards the wall. Thea ghosted up to her shoulder as she unfolded it, a handwritten note that had been heavily crossed out.

_Sept. 26_

_Today was spent arguing with the postmaster about sending my reports back instead of investigating. This fucking town, this fucking mayor, this fucking disappearing squad. You know what, Hanlon, if you want to find out where they went, you get your ass up here and—_

The rest was blacked out with scribbling, the pen biting deep enough to rip into the paper. Bunny picked out the odd word, _ranger, children,_ possibly _collapsed_ under the ink.

“Hanlon?” Thea said, taking it. “There’s a Hanlon heading up the Rangers…”

“That boy mentioned a Ranger. When he was talking about monsters…” Bunny said. “Did you ever actually look at their old well?”

“No. The mayoriff never offered.”

“ _Mayoriff?_ ”

Thea spread her free hand. “I am trying to break the tension, here!” Bunny rolled her eyes as she turned for the front door. Thea trotted after as she went to the cart. “ _Now_ can I say ‘I told you so’?”

“Maybe,” Bunny said, tossing a coil of rope over her shoulder. She passed Thea a lantern. “Unless you want to reset the winch over the old one…”

Thea took it, comprehension dawning. She swallowed again, and said, “No. I’ll come up faster than you, motor or not.” She grabbed her hand, the whole of hers fitting into Bunny’s palm. “What do you think’s down there?”

“I don’t know,” Bunny said. “But this is all very suspicious, and I think it starts there.”

The old well had a wooden cover atop it, and Bunny hauled it aside as Thea tied the rope into a loop, knotted the lantern above it. Bunny helped her step up onto the edge of the well, snuck a kiss as they briefly stood face-to-face. “Just yell, when you need to come up,” Bunny said.

“You got it, Bun,” Thea said, stepping through the loop, shotgun in hand. Bunny fed the rope through her hands, the friction of it nothing against her skin. The light of the lantern descended, growing smaller and dimmer as Thea dropped.

“See anything?” she said.

“No…Wait, wait!” Thea yanked the rope, and Bunny tightened her grip, stopping her descent. “What the hell? She said it had dried up. But this’s been _collapsed!_ ”

“Would she know the difference?” Bunny called down.

No reply.

“Thea?” She tightened her grip on the rope, peered down at the light.

“There’s…a cavern here.” She saw Thea twist to look up at her. “Tunnels.”

“You’re coming up,” Bunny said.

“Damn right I am,” Thea said. Bunny was already hauling. “We should check the roads, and—oh, _shit_ —”

“ _Thea?_ ” She started pulling faster. Thea’s shotgun roared, and the rope was dragged back down. Bunny wrapped it around her wrists, throwing her weight back from the well. With a _snap_ the resistance ended, and she fell back in the dirt. Bunny dragged the rope up, not bothering to stand, until the frayed end flopped over the edge of the well.

“ _Thea!_ ” She was on her feet again, head in the well. Her voice echoed back at her; no light, no sound from below.

Bunny stepped back, looked to their cart. Peach watched her from the path next to the well. “Come on, girl,” she said, scooping her up. “I think I’ll need your help.”


	4. Chapter 4

Peach grumbled, squeaking fear as she balanced across the back of Bunny’s neck. Back braced on one side of the well shaft, hands and feet on the other, she descended a foot at a time. Her headlamp flickered, and Bunny paused as a shadow loomed in the brick, the tunnel too deep to illuminate. She let herself drop, feet catching on crumbled brick, boots sinking into churned dirt. She picked up her shovel where it had fallen, blade-first, into the earth.

Peach huddled behind her boots as she stepped into the tunnel. It was high enough she barely needed to hunch, and Bunny reached out to feel the walls. They had been carved out from the hard-packed earth with little gouging strokes, small tools working fast. Frowning, she gripped the handle of her shovel tighter and started walking.

The floor of the tunnel was soft with fallen dirt, stirred up to her right. There were bootprints leading off, but they ended sharply, as though Thea had simply failed to put her next footstep down. Casting about, she reached down for a shadow on the floor. Thea’s hat had been stepped on, and she popped out the brim as Peach sniffed at it. “Find her, girl?”

The mole rat rubbed at her face with a paw before heading down the tunnel. Her headlamp flickered, showing glowing fungus clinging to the walls. Cobwebs grew thicker as they went, Peach leading her without hesitation deeper, lower, the tunnel sloping down, down…

Peach stopped in her tracks at in intersection, grinding her teeth. Bunny snapped off her lamp, letting her eyes adjust to the faint, fairy-light glow of the fungus.

Something was moving, around the corner to the left, a soft, scuffing noise. She raised her shovel, and called softly, “Thea?”

The sound stopped. Peach backed away, hiding behind her ankles. Taking a deep breath, she took two deliberate strides, and something huge reared up in the tunnel.

Bunny swung the shovel. “I am—” _crack_ “— _so_ sorry!”

It staggered back, legs coming up to stroke the spot one after the other. Bunny turned on her light as she stepped away, a shudder going up her back. Even so large, it looked fragile, eight thin legs supporting a striped body and bulging abdomen, eyes glowing in the light of her headlamp. It stopped probing the wound, and Bunny raised her shovel. It threw up its frontmost legs, backing away on the rest, mouthparts working. She froze. Lowering the shovel, it followed, setting its legs down one by one.

Before she could start feeling stupid about it, Bunny asked, “Where did you take Thea?”

It worked its jaws, but didn’t move.

She reached up for the hat around her neck, and it drew its feet under it. Holding it out, the spider slowly extended a leg. It grabbed the brim in a mix of claws and bristles that Bunny didn’t examine too closely, and ran another foot around the inside of the crown.

Bunny waited. Behind her, Peach peered at the thing, making a snuffling sound.

The spider set the hat on its head, and started backing down the tunnel. It turned, when the passage widened, stopping with one shining eye pointed at Bunny.

She followed. It faced ahead, leading her into tunnels coated in layers of web. It grew thicker, older, the longer they walked, with large, web-wrapped masses lined up along the walls. Bunny slowed as she passed them, trying not to look too closely, but something caught her eye. Brushing the webs away from one, a deathclaw skull stared back. The next carcass was just as large, and she dug her fingers into the web, revealing a yao guai skeleton, curled up on itself. Looking down the tunnel, she noted the sizes, the shapes under the webs—large predators, man-eaters, the kinds of creatures that would be drawn to a remote town full of easy prey.

In the line, there was a set of three smaller figures. More slowly, she uncovered them, holding her breath. The skull was unmistakably human, but the body under it still wore scraps of leather armor. She squinted at a mark carved into the pauldron of one, some faint memory trying to stir. Pulling it loose from the crumbling armor, she held it to the forehead of the skull. A slaver’s mark.

There was a tapping noise ahead. Looking up, her guide had turned, and rapped a foot once more against an exposed rock. “You protected them,” she said.

It turned to a bundle further down, tearing through web with its forelegs before sidling away. Bunny almost started at the sight of the Ranger’s helmet, the red eyepieces of their mask catching the light. Coming closer, she could just make out the shriveled body under the armor. The spider ripped open the next, the body under the webs older, mummified, wearing a breastplate and fatigues.

“I don’t…” She straightened, shaking her head. The spider reached for the Ranger’s body, pulling loose a heavy revolver. It stood stock still until Bunny picked it up, then backed away, mouthparts working.

She followed.

Her ears pricked at the sound of voices, echoing ahead. A gentle scraping noise accompanied it, and Bunny paused as she stepped from the tunnel and into a cavern. Her guide stalked ahead towards the center, and a voice piped up, “I _tole_ you not to rile up the neighbors! See, I _said_ , Missus Mutant and now you’re gonna get eaten’n—”

“Oh put a _sock_ in it, you little urchin!”

“Thea!” Peach rushed ahead of her into a cavern, the fungus barely enough to illuminate the townsfolk sitting off to one side. Thea was the tallest in her group, the town’s children clustered around her. “What happened? I thought—”

She hopped up and down, ams webbed against her sides, shotgun bound to her leg. “Holy shit, Bun, you’re not gonna believe—”

“It wasn’t our fault!”

Bunny’s headlamp illuminated the mayor, standing near the middle of the cavern. Her boots had been wrapped in web, fixed to the floor. She held her hands up, pleading. “Please just let us go. He’s already left, I can’t give you what you want!”

Something shifted, ahead of her. Eyes as large as the mayor’s head reflected blue back at her, and Bunny gasped. What looked like a pile of stone shifted a leg, facing her. Smaller spiders scuttled over it, the size of Bunny’s hand, to and from the partially webbed carcass of a brahmin.

Something touched her wrist, and Bunny shied away. Her guide touched her again, on the arm holding the revolver, and pointed towards the wall. More spiders stood there, watching the mayor, the massive cave mother—but the back ranks were immobile, eyes milky, wrapped in web. Bunny stepped closer to sight along its arm, on a bundle of smaller bodies.

“Thea?” Bunny whispered.

“They tried to _feed_ us to these things,” she hissed. “Use us as a decoy while they got the hell outta—”

“Why?”

Thea tried to wave her hands, still bound to her sides. “They’re monsters! What the hell else do you expect!”

“Not them,” Bunny said, turning to the mayor. “You knew about them?”

“We weren’t the ones who broke the agreement.” The mayor tried to turn, coming up short with her feet stuck in place. “That Ranger who came through started killing them. We don’t know why, we tried to tell him…”

The spider in the center of the cave raised a leg. The mayor squeaked as a smaller one scuttled up, wiping her boots free of web before drawing her away. Bunny’s guide tapped a foot against her back, and she stepped up, slowly towards the giant—and shooting a look at the children, the humans, the tallest of them still barely half her size.

“H—hello,” she said. An arm’s length away, it worked its mouthparts once, and was still. “Do you understand me?”

The dinner-plate eyes stared back at her, impassive.

Bunny cleared her throat. “Mayor? What happened to the soldiers that came here?”

“I—” She tried to smile, a corpse’s rictus. “They, uh, what soldiers, I…?”

“There’s nothing to hide, now,” Bunny said. “The truth. Please.”

“They…” Her face crumpled. “We tried to warn them. They were going north, to an outpost, and—we told them about the curfew, and about not causing a fuss, but they were…loud, after dark, and…”

“You didn’t want them here.”

“No. I mean—” She waved her hands. “We didn’t—didn’t stake them out, or anything like that, but the neighbors…They didn’t understand.”

“They killed ‘em dead fer bein’ rowdy!”

“Wesley, I am still your mama and I will tan your hide if you speak up one more time.”

Bunny cleared her throat. “And the Ranger? He came to investigate?”

She nodded. “And stayed out one night, and…”

“He killed some,” Bunny said. The mayor nodded again, wretched. “Including infants.”

“I…” She stood with her mouth open. “I didn’t…They _never_ touch children, I…” She turned to the mother. “Ma’am, I didn’t realize. I am so sorry…”

“So they started attacking you,” Bunny said. “They collapsed your well, in revenge.”

“Bun?” from Thea, hushed.

The mayor stepped towards her, and fell to her knees before the giant in the middle of the cave. “We didn’t know why you were taking us,” she said, voice choked. Wiping her nose on her sleeve, “Ma’am, I cannot apologize for what happened, not near enough. But we can’t live here like this. And if we don’t bring in food for you…”

“The house the Ranger stayed in,” Bunny said. “Thea did you see…?”

“A fuckoff huge spider body? No,” she said, stepping to the edge of the children’s group. The spiders nearest her raised her forelegs, and she stopped. “But we never went in the bedroom.”

Bunny nodded. “Ma’am?” she said, turning to the cave mother. She pointed to the bundle of smaller bodies, then to the ceiling. “I know where they are.”

***

They let her walk back to the well unharmed, a scuttling trail of spiders behind. Bunny heaved herself up the rope she’d left hanging, and behind her, heard the spiders follow.

The Ranger’s house had been built atop a concrete slab, a challenge for a pickaxe, let alone a spider’s claws. She ducked to fit through the doors, and broke the lock on the bedroom door. Three bodies had been laid on the bed, the smallest the size of her hand, the largest with a leg span as wide as her arms. Its body had been cut open, partially dissected, and she replaced as much as she could before taking the bodies outside.

A dozen spiders stood in the road, the one with Thea’s hat in the lead. They took the bodies from her arms, bundling them up in webs before scuttling away.

“I’m sorry,” she said. The spiders stared back, unmoving. “I hope you and this town can still cooperate…”

“I guess we’ll…we’ll just have to.” The mayor was at the head of another group, the spiders stepping away from the townsfolk, letting them filter back into the streets. “But we still need a well.”

Thea and Bunny dug into the night, the spiders hovering around them. The buckets moved slower, the dirt in them wetter, heavier. They took longer and longer to reach her, the deeper she dug, and finally, one descended on a strand of spider silk. Bunny pointed her headlamp up, and a set of shining eyes gazed down, the spider clinging to the side of the tripod.

They kept digging, the tiny disc of sky above growing slowly lighter. Eventually, the water started rising over her boots, to her ankles, faster than the buckets could bail. She sent her shovel up in one, and it came back down full of bricks.

Another hour saw the bottom portion cased off, and Bunny stepped onto a bucket, letting it carry her up. There was a rasping sound over the whine of the motor, and she spotted Thea slumped in her horrible chair, snoring. Turning as she stepped onto solid ground, the spider in her hat wiggled its mouthparts, a foot on the winch controls.

It took into the next day to finish the well. The spiders had withdrawn from the sun, and the townsfolk watched them from the edge of the field.

“They could at least help,” Thea muttered, slapping mortar onto the last row of bricks.

“You’d just get angry with them underfoot, dear,” Bunny said. Thea grumbled under her breath, but didn’t argue.

The light was low and gold when they packed up their cart, the mayor hovering to one side. “You’re very welcome to stay,” she said, rubbing her hands together. “We could use your help.”

“Ma’am, we are _done_ with—”

“We have to follow our work,” Bunny said, shuffling Thea aside. “Thank you for the offer, ms. Mayor.”

“And just what is your name, anyway?” Thea said, pushing Bunny’s arm aside. “What do people call you, who know you, that isn’t _mayor_?”

“Oh!” She clasped her hands at her chin. “Well…I guess Wesley calls me mama, Or mom.”

Thea made a strangled noise. Bunny nodded kindly.

The cart was lighter as she drew it south. Thea sat on her shoulder, and Bunny glanced up. “Where’s your hat?”

Thea shrugged, and pointed behind her. “Suited him better.”

She twisted to look. The tarps had been rigged into a shade, and beneath it, a spider wiggled its mouthparts at her, Peach tucked under the arch of its legs.

“Well.” She faced front again, watching the dust swirl across the road. “Suppose it’s about time we retired that winch, anyway.”

“Oh, I dunno,” Thea said. “New Arroyo’s always a good visit to trade. I heard they were expanding, too. Might need some work done.”

“Maybe, maybe,” Bunny said. “Though that talk of Klamath got me thinking…”

The sun sank lower in the sky as they walked, out into the wasteland.


End file.
